the intervals of still water
by Seynee
Summary: She says it again, and again, and again, and his world tips off its axis. — Shouta, Sawako.


**notes:** written for ligust_dactna at LJ, whose prompt is "separation". Spoilers for chapter 29-39. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>the intervals of still water<br>**_a beautiful nervousness_

.

There is this boy—Miura Kento—who pays a lot of attention to Sawako lately.

He's cheerful and not at all awkward the way Shouta is, casual touches on silky black hair and smiles that coax the girl into one of her own. Her name passes between his lips easily, too; syllables pronounced smoothly, no hitches or pauses or any hesitation at all.

Looking at them leaves Shouta with a jealousy so potent it rakes through his body and makes him clench his fists under the table. The feeling is new and fierce and he's not proud of the things he does to quell the fire. He greets her more loudly across the classroom, guilty pleasure washing over him when her face turns a brilliant crimson and she stutters his name. He stares at her longer than necessary, sending telepathic messages out into the air with the hope that one of them will land in her hands somehow. He curves his lips into an extra-bright, extra-friendly smile, the one that works so well on other people, and hopes that this one will imprint itself on the inside of her eyelids.

_Notice me_, he wants to say every time Miura sits next to Sawako. _Look here, _he wants to say as Miura pulls her into a conversation, her laughter unrestrained with the throng of excited words._ Look at me._

It seems like she never does.

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><p>Maybe it's not Miura's fault, Shouta thinks some time after the boy asks him not to 'string her along'. Maybe it's him. Maybe there is really something about her that he does not—<em>cannot<em>—understand.

Shouta doesn't like to admit it, but he's aware that there's a distance between him and Sawako unseen by the eyes. It spans long and wide, separating them even as they sit together, arms almost touching. It surfaces in the little things: the naked panic in her large brown eyes every time he stands a little too close, walks a little too close, the quickening of her breaths when he calls her name, the jumbled words that stumble out of her lips as she tries to explain something to him.

The realization sends a prickle of something unnamed under his chest. It's a little like envy, not only at Miura but also at Yano and Chizuru who seem to understand her the most; a little like guilt for delivering the words that give birth to the crestfallen expression on her face; a little like fear of this going on forever.

Later he will wonder if it's disappointment or dissatisfaction, then decide that it's both.

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><p>One day he sees them in the schoolyard, Miura's hands on Sawako's elbows and the girl herself in tears. The rage he feels is intensely aggresive, coursing through his body and sending his blood to his head as he seizes Miura to demand for answers. The boy stutters in panicked confusion, people start gathering, and then—<p>

And then it's a no that reaches his ears, and he leaves without looking back.

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><p>When the classroom door slides open and he sees her standing there, surprise catches his throat and raises the bubble of questions underneath. In the end, the expression on her face registers first and Shouta swallows them all, their weight setting into the pit of his stomach.<p>

Sawako is a flurry of unresolved emotions, pink blossoms spreading on light-colored cheeks and a glint of desperation in her eyes. When she rushes to explain, her words are a jumbled mess that burns like a fever in his brain. The orange light that streams through the windowpanes cast a warm glow over her face, and she says—

"I love you."

She says it again, and again, and again, and his world tips off its axis.

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><p>When she sinks into his arms, breathless but sure, his heart beats so hard and fast that he thinks he might burst. The feeling envelops him completely, clinging from the top of his hair right down to his toes, and it strangely reminds him of this: the smell of warm, recently washed bed sheets drying in the wind, the sight of a loved one in the arrivals gate, luggage in tow, mint chocolate chip ice cream melting on his tongue on a hot summer evening.<p>

He likes it.

.

**end.**

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><p><strong>notes:<strong> Because Shouta is still a kid inside. And let's face it, he's not exactly emotionally stable. First fanfiction for this fandom, and I hope it somehow meets the standards. Thank you for reading! :D


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